Writings of Boredom and Darkness
by Booky 'Kaj
Summary: This isn't a story. These are the entrances into my mind and horrifying soul. These are my escapes.
1. Writings 1 to 3

1.

Darkness encircles the fallen mind. It drags you down into the deepness and makes you swallow the poison that you have been fed. You cry out but no one wants to hear your selfless calls. They leave you for dead and take away your possessions. They torment your lifeless body and make a mockery of your suffering. They laugh in the wake of your tear stung eyes and tremble not when you rise. You move fiercely through their wickedness and suffer through their painful blows. Some catch on and knock you back to your knees. Though, you rise up again and this time you walk away. You say nothing to your tormentors. You take back all the tears you have shed. You smile as you see the brightness in front of you. You turn around and give a cheerful bow with a wave to them. They wave back with sad looks on their faces. They start to cry as you walk further. The light starts to swallow you. They start falling to their knees and reaching for you. They want you back with all their hearts. They yell out in sorrow. It hurts them to a point where every once in a while they can't breathe. You walk on into the bright light that has almost completely engulfed you. It hurts them as they see you go. They never meant to lose you. They never thought that they would go this far. They never thought that something like this could happen. Though, it is okay for you. You disappear into the light and they close the lid to your life.

Sickness is all around you. The disease has spread to everyone that you know. Or did you really know them. Did they ever really know you? The old them starts to fade and you see the true colors of their flesh and insides come out. You see the horrifying them that you never thought would be true. They start eating at others until they are worthless and then they move on. They keep attacking people until they feel better about their grotesqueness. They start to eat others happiness away. They are the tormentors in this scene. You never thought that this would be so. You hide behind your small wall. They never find you. They never wanted to. You start to cry as you realize the reality. You are alone in this world and forever will be. You have always been alone and that will never change. The people that you know change while you remain the same. They disappear while you stay visible as an invisible. You realize that nothing that you love or enjoy will ever stay with you. It will get taken from your thin grasp and be hidden where you will never see it again. This is your reality and this is the real world in which you must take the suffering. This is the disease plagued land where you must live and fight for your cure. To end this you must not be afraid to fall. To survive you must take all your torment with no surprises. Take your life away from the diseased and create a new life for your own. You must run away from the others. You must make a mask and hide behind it with your secrets, lies, and utter most fears. You must learn to survive on your own. You must learn to not believe. You must be aware of everything. Trust nothing. Trust no one. Not even yourself.

2.

They suffocate you. They tell you what you have to do and when. They let you have no freedom. No choice in your actions. You are forced to do something that kills you piece by deathly poisoned piece. It makes your heart stop whenever they mention it. It makes your breathe stop cold. They watch as you suffocate slowly but do they care. No. No one cares as you sink into the deep depression that you see as your mournful life. You want to cry. Though you never let anyone see you. So you hold it in. You keep your feelings and emotions built up to the point where you don't even know when you're going to explode. They torture you with your fears and weaknesses. They laugh at what you saw as your accomplishments. They kick you as you fall and while you are down. No one sees it but you are kicking yourself as well. They make you scream in terrorizing agony. They laugh at your painful howls. They pretend like it is fun. They judge you with kindness. Though you know that on the inside it is dislike and cruelty on which they base your personality. They see you as the prisoner in which they must punish. Even though you committed no crime. You watch as everyone around you smiles. You even smile. Though it is fake. Everything about you is fake. You live your life in a lie in which you hope no one discovers. You watch as everyone is joyous and that just tempts you more.

3.

Why are you so scared. Why do you worry about the things that have not happened yet. You sit alone in your little world wilting away by the power of forces that you don't see. Only believe. Why do you let yourself deteriorate. Why do you let them push you around to the point where you aren't even sure who you are anymore. Why do you let yourself become the puppet and have other people pull your flimsy little strings! You let them step on you. You let yourself hide and cower down when you know that you are stronger than they are! You show weakness to the ones that hurt you. You are the reason why you fall. Why do you do that. Why do let them see weaknesses that aren't there. Why do you not show them who you really are? You think they hate you. You think that no one wants to be around the person you are on the inside. You think that no one will even look at you if you hide. If you let them see the real you, they will stare with distaste. Is that why you hide? Is that why you become a life-less puppet? Is that why you suffer inside and out with a disease that no one notices. Is that why you contemplate it? You don't have to hide. You don't have to worry. No one thinks that you are to be pushed on the outside of their world and thrown into an abyss. No one actually sees you as the monster that you see yourself as. Don't cower and hide anymore. Don't let yourself wilt away into your state of absolute isolation. You are better than that and it is time that you finally realize it. You need to stand up as you are and let others see your darkness shine as bright as a dimed sun. I'm sorry you ever felt the way that you did. Well goodbye. I wish you could have stayed. I wish I had told you sooner.


	2. Writings 4 to 6

4.

I just wanted to say that God saved my life. I'm not saying that I'm saved because I'm not. I want to be because my life clock is ticking away and it is killing me now and later at the same time. It hurts me every day when realization hits once again. Though, I just wanted to bring up the fact that he has saved my life before I was born and about 6 years after and even some after that. I'm not going to go into detail because I don't have the strength to say it aloud in fear that I may hurt the feelings of my loved ones. I'm not even going to type it in the sanctity of my writings. I just wanted to voice it in a way that  
>I would know what was going through my mind yesterday. How I felt about the things that were going on around me and inside of me. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore. Things are swirling in my head and I can hardly control my mind, let alone the things that are poisoning it beyond my control. I'm feeling sick upon the voiced thoughts of the surroundings of yesterday. They say how they are truly committed, yet they diminish a girl when she just wants to be accepted, more than likely. I find myself lost in the real world and my religious world. I am slowly stumbling through a realm of darkness into a slowly devouring abyss. I feel so alone even in the crowd the size of the world. I feel like I'm the only one that brings these points into view. I feel like I have gone into my mental state of mind where even my feelings can't be released through writing or music or singing. I'm starting to feel pain in ways I never have. I'm starting to feel the pain in others that I see. Rosewood. I started to feel the noose around my throat slowly dragging me into death. I felt the bullet rip through my flesh and my eyes exploded with tears. Others see the same things that I do, but they don't swallow it. They gargle it in their mouths for a while and then spit it out like it burns and they don't want to feel it. Though, I taste it. I let it seep down the back of my throat and taste the toxicness even though I don't want to believe that it is true. It burns but I face it with boldness even though others cower away.<p>

5.

I am starting to wake up from my sleep. The one that has hidden me from all the things that I never wanted to see. I am starting to realize that a lot of people are two-faced. They sink their teeth into you only so that they can take your fears and secrets. Then they rip them out leaving harsh bruises and you to sit there and suffer./I hate that I have lost the old me. Today someone finally realized who I used to be. Two others spoke up as well. Though, it took a picture for memory. I hate that I am who I am sometimes. She asked what made me change. The answer is everything. Realization started to hit me in the face repeatedly. I started to realize that nothing lasts forever. That friends do go away. They do forget you even when you don't forget them. I want to be the old me sometimes. Though I can't seem to find the little girl that was happy. I don't even remember what happiness is. It hurts me to know that they have finally uncovered the dead girl that used to be so fun and friendly and not scared of what was going to happen. I miss being the little girl that had friends she could trust and not have a care in the world. I miss the nice feeling of happiness. I wish I could find it. But for me, it runs away. It doesn't want me to find it. Why would anything. I want to cry so bad but I'm keeping it inside. I never let anyone see me cry. I never let anyone see the pain that I go through every day inside this form of myself. I act so strong even though no one sees it. I wish someone could. Though, I also hope that no one ever finds out. It could hurt them to. And I don't want them to suffer the way I suffer. I don't want anyone to suffer at all. If I could, I would take everyone's pain, everyone's urge to be evil and thrust it upon myself so that no one would be hurt or evil. I want a world of peace. But that hides from me to. Everything hides from me. It hurts. It really does. My family and closest friends don't even understand what I go through. I don't tell them. It's just me and God. I wish he didn't pay attention to me. Others need help more than me. I'm worthless. Though, I'm also lucky. Luck differing from everyone else.

**6.**

Life circles around the mind inside of your empty little head. It suffocates it. It drags it into the darkness of the inhuman. You can't see. Your mind can't breathe. Blood drips out. It starts to become so insufferable that you scream. Nothing comes. You fall to the floor in pain. Your body starts writhing and shaking. You want the pain to go away. It just laughs at you. Everyone laughs at you. Life will not cease to torment you. It pushes you down and kicks you as you try to get up. Everyone sees it. They don't help. They join in. You sit on your bed. Tears are stinging your eyes. You won't let them fall. Blood drips out. You wish the world would leave you alone. It won't. It loves to mock you. It wants you to howl in outrageous pain. It wants you to suffer. So, blood drips out. This is your last chance. Your last hope. You talk to them. You tell them. They scream. They say you are crazy. You let the rope grab your neck.


	3. Writings 7 to 11

**7. (part 1&2)**

You sit. Alone. In silence. Yes. You have freedom. Yes. You have food and clothes and a home and family. Though, you still can't find happiness. Just when you find it and reach out to grab it. It disappears. Your hands never grasp it. You never get to have it. Everyone else seems so joyous. So lively. So. Happy. Why not you? Why aren't you happy? Is it because they left you. They left you. They left you alone with your silence. Your stupid freedom. Your food. Your clothes. Your new home. And your cruel, vicious family. They left you to die. They never said anything. They never even told you goodbye. They hated you. Everyone hates you. No one wants you to have happiness. That's why they put it on a string and jerked it when you came close. The tears get bigger in your eyes. Though, your heart shrinks at the same time. You start to feel malicious pain from everything you think. It hurts you. It drags you down a road that you never wanted to set foot on. Why did you go there. Why did you let them push you so far. You scream. You scream because there is nothing left for you to do. You sit alone. Surrounded by silence. Without freedom. Without a real home. Without the family that was supposed to love you.**/**I hate this. I hate that I have no real friends. I hate that they only include me so that I can watch their stuff. That if everyone else in their group leaves the last person will have me to mentally diminish until the others come back. No one cares here. No one. I hate that I make horrible friend decisions. I chose to leave the friends that really cared about my few sayings and ideas and my little presence around them. The ones that would be walking with me or be by my side when I did something stupid.

8.

I don't know what to type but I just want to write something. To get things out of my head so that I can make room for more. I wish that I could sing whenever I want without anybody hearing me. I feel way better when I sing. I can also get out all my anger and frustration and fear and sadness out. I know what mood I'm in when I sing. I can tell by the words that my mind tells me to sing. It makes me sick. All my stupid regrets and failures make me sick. I want to throw up but that is just more weakness. I want to hit something. I want to break something and hear it shatter. I hope that I can keep this self-control because I don't want to hurt anybody. I'm scared of what I might do in the future if someone makes me mad. I'm scared of everything that could happen. I don't want to hurt anyone or watch something bad happen. I hope that I will never be the cause of a tragedy. Though, I'm scared that like all my other hopes this one will do the exact opposite. That it will poison me. I also wish that things will come back down to Earth. That everything will stop being so weird in this prison. That things will stop being like there's about to be a riot. Or maybe there should be riot? Now I want a riot. I want the walls to fall. I want to see something crumble.

**9.**

The darkness of your world starts to dissipate. It vanishes and you are led into a place you used to dwell. You feel…. You don't know what you feel but it's been there for a while. Though, it was hidden under the rubble of your sad and dreary domain. And your secrets. But they are still there. You are slowly rising up against the things that drown you. You are starting to overpower them and bring them to their knees. Maybe this time it will last. Maybe this time you won't get beaten and bruised and hurt by everything around you. This time things will be different. You won't close up or freeze. You will not cower and have them make a mockery of your suffering. Good luck my dear. You'll be fine. Someday.

**10.**

You haven't seen the stages of darkness that my mind has been forced to devour and absorb throughout my years. You haven't been incased in an abyss of darkness that has absolutely no light. You can't even picture light because you are so trapped. You don't see anything. You just sit and sob. Waiting for the moment when the darkness falls onto you and causes your heart to burst and your brain to explode from the impact. Though, through all your endless suffering you find joy. You find happiness in the fact that your life is close to ending. That soon you may not have to suffer anymore. That maybe through this you could find some sort of bliss that'll keep you going until the end of your dreary and painful existence. You don't have to sit alone and walk down halls feeling so close to your worst secret. You don't feel the urge to go farther and farther into what you swear you'll never do. It creeps deeper into your mind every day. Every frikin second that you have to dwell in that awful prison and endure the harshness that they spit upon your lifeless body. How do you not see how lucky you really are. How can you sit there and feel pity for your perfect little life! You make me sick, coward. You fully disgust me with how stupid you act. And how much you take for granted.

**11.**

They think you have friends here. They pretend that you are like every other student. You want to scream and yell at them. But they're your wardens. You can't do anything. You get so sick of them creating "group" activities. No one even notices you until there is no one left. You want to cry. But can't. You want to scream as long as your lungs will let you. And keep going. You want unleash your anger by bashing something in. Or hitting it. Or punching it until it breaks. Though that's not normal. They see you as weird. At least you're individual and not a stupid wimp. It kills you. Everything about this prison kills you. They drive you insane. But they don't see it. You won't let them. You belong in a place worse than a big, soft white room. Though, they are too idiotic to know. You've improved upon your fake smile. You can lie without showing otherwise. They fall for it. Or they just really don't care. For your own sake, you keep the tears out of your eyes. They don't deserve to see your real feelings. They will never get the accomplishment of making you cry in front of them. You walk out of that place. You shove the headphones deep into your ears. And turn the music up as loud as it will go. You let it take you away from your awful life. You let the pain and sadness fall off of your heart and mind as it kicks up. Their voices are loud and different. Others don't understand their words. But you do. Others don't understand its power. But you do. You may be different. Or diseased. Or psychotic. But you understand it. And that is all that they'll never know.


	4. Writings 12 & 13

**12.**

You welcome yourself back into the prison that you know way to well. It haunts you. Torments you. They make you want to scream more and more every day. No one sees how much you hate this place. How much you hate all the tormentors that mock you. You just smile your cold, wickedly clever smile. Follow all their precious rules, even though you crave to defy them. Walking throughout the cells, you smile on the inside. Laughing hysterically at how they all file in line without hesitation. You watch in silence as they punish you for nothing. You don't let them hear your screams. You will never let them hear how much they hurt you. You walk to your cell and sit. Obeying their commands. Waiting for the perfect time to set this prison ablaze with fear. Waiting for the time when the walls will fall at your command. You slink into the darkness surrounding you. Hiding from all of your executioners. You feel yourself breaking. Crumbling. All of the strength that you have worked so hard to attain rushes out of your body and you fall against the floor. You feel yourself slowly sink into the frozen darkness that is your toxic wasteland. You cringe as you melt into a puddle of despair once more. Walking straight into your worst fear without a care in the world. You slowly kill yourself, but feel nothing. The poison grasps the entirety of your mind as you vanish into the twisted sickness of theirs. They feel nothing as they watch you disappear. They just stare with their painfully blank faces except for when they laugh at your screams. Finally, all the lights you see go out and you drift into a new state with a more haunting ruler.

13.

You try so hard to stand beside them. To be on the same level as everyone close to you. Just when you feel like you've made it, the ground breaks and once again you fall to the bottom. So far away. So hurt and alone. This time, you decide to just stay there. To just lie down and rest. To just stay where you should be. You realize how truly alone you are. How they don't truly care about your small feelings. You want to make them all smile so badly. Though, your mind hates you. It throws everything back into your face with the opposite reaction. You would rather die than see anyone sad, even a little bit. Though, the world just laughs at your difference. How truly scared you are. How truly pathetic you feel. It pushes you down into the ground even farther. It buries you in all that you have ever worked for. All the time you spent trying to find where you belong. The truth is that you belong nowhere. No else sees it though. It's alright with you. You don't want people to see it. Ever since you were young, you've hidden it. It hurts people. You don't like that it hurts people. Then, the world drags them down too. You don't want it to. You don't want them to see the things that you've had to see. The things that your mind has forced you to think. The horrible feelings that are always at your side. Clawing at you. Tempting you. Pushing you off the edge of the cliff in which you stand. Drawing out one of your worst fears. You lay on the rocky, painful bottom of the mountain you've fallen off of. Singing all the lyrics of your songs and songs that you love. Forgetting that your pain exists. Letting your one talent flow out of you while no one is around to hear it and hurt you with it. Letting it wipe away all the tears that you hold in every day. You drift away into the lyrical world in which you want to live. Until you have to get jerked out by the cold, cruel hands grasping your neck. They drag you through the dirt and rocks like always. They spit on you as you pass them. Not in actuality, but you can see it in their eyes. They may smile and act nice to you, but you can see that deep down they hate you. Not many know how to keep secrets like you do. Every part of you can lie with such skill that no one knows. So, you play along. You act like you aren't broken, for their sake. You think of all the lyrics in your head and smile for them. Make them happy for the few seconds that they stay around you. Then you retreat back into your darkness. Back to where you have been forced to live since you were born. Wondering why you are locked away from all the secrets that could actually help you. Wondering why the world acts the way that they do. Wondering why you are even on this planet when you do nothing for it. When you take what you have for yourself. You wonder why, when you try to be your real self, most people walk away. Or why they never stick by you for long. Everything stays bottled up inside your head and it hurts. You walk into your solitary place and scream. You scream at the top of your lungs until they run out. Then, you scream again and again until you fall to your knees. Then you fall over completely. And you cry. Where no one will ever see your tears. Where no one will ever know how much you hurt inside. You then pick yourself up. Walk through the paths that you know with your eyes shut. Blaring the music once more in an attempt to escape another psychotic episode. Singing as loud as your voice will go. Letting go of it all. Forgetting how lost you are. How trapped you are. How you truly believe that you will never help anyone because of another stupid fear. It all slips through the cracks that increase as your voice does. As the music pulls them apart piece by piece. Then the world fades to black. Everything starts rushing back as the music is suffocated and you start the awful process all over again.


	5. Writings 14 to 16

**14.**

The world loves to shove its toxins down your throat. It loves to watch you suffer as the pain seeps deep into your mind and soul. You feel everything that goes on around you. Except for the happiness. You never feel the happiness. You see the pain in their eyes and hear the sadness in their voice while they smile like you sometimes do. It hurts you. You've always had a strong empathy link flowing throughout you. You literally feel what is happening to them when it hurts. You hear other's cruel words echo throughout your head. You feel the sting of a fist plowing into you or the pain of a kick knocking you against pavement. You hate the world for this. You hate that it causes people so much pain. That it punishes the weak and wickends the strong. That it pushes people until they can't take it anymore. That it forces them to leap off of the edge and then makes them blame themselves for the event. You've come so close to doing it. To letting the world get what it wants from you. You can't stand knowing that others have almost given up as well. The world just sits on its pathetic pedestal while mocking how weak some are. You want to make it fall .You want t make it realize everything it has done. Everything that it is doing. You try to stop it, to lift up those that are struggling. Though, the world doesn't like it. It knocks you back into the ground and tries to break you. But once again, you stand. And reach out for the others that are like you were. You came so close to throwing the world out of its role as dictator. Then, it hits you. It stops going after you and attacks those around you. Through this, it drags you back into its grimy clutches. Except this time, it holds a stronger grip around your soul. It forces you to obey all of its commands at the moment it says them. It treats you as if you are its slave. It makes you go back to how you used to think and hear and see and feel things. How you used to hurt so much, you didn't feel a thing. You are forced to go back to being a dull, life-less puppet. With the cruel world pulling your strings deeper into the black hole it calls its soul.

**15.**

Your weary body drifts throughout the halls. It's twitching fits taking the small amount of energy you have left. You feel as if you could collapse at any moment. Though, they won't let you. They drag you back to your feet and force you to keep standing. All the bruises and scars across you ache horrendously while the blood from reopened scabs flow over you. Every part of you is screaming, but you don't even have the energy to let it out. You let them beat you as you are dragged around the pitch black land you know too well. Howls and screeches reverberate through the corridors. Followed by the inhuman cries and screams of those being tortured. Pathetic souls roam the floors in search of a way out. Though, they'll never find it. Even if there were one. They've wandered too far into the land of the lost. Your captors shove you into a room filled with warmth. You crawl onto the small bed in the darkest corner in the room. You start to fill with the idea that maybe they are through with you. But then they show that they are not. You are jerked upwards and then slammed into the cemented ground. The only things you hear are their viciously joyful laughs. Pain cascades over you as your vision goes in circles. They broke you. They tore away everything that made you strong. They stole your voice, your happiness. You fell into a darkness with no end. Every time you try to stand up, they knock you back even farther. You feel so tormented. Everything that brought you even some slight bit of joy was destroyed. All of it set ablaze into a mountain of ashes. They killed you. They stabbed you through the heart, while a bullet made its course through your brain. Yet you still move. You still get dragged throughout the living nightmare. Still endure torture after torture. They make you endure everything until they finally throw you out with the trash in which you now are.

16.

You force yourself to let the poison drip down your throat. You make yourself stay face down into the dense pillow. You let your hand relax around the trigger of the gun whose barrel is set on your temple. You keep your hands around your neck until it hurts and you can barely breathe. You keep the large blanket wrapped around you as it gets hotter and stuffier. You smile lightly as the blade of a knife rips into your flesh and blood slides down you. You walk towards the edge of the building and take a step past it. You want the world to throw you out. You want to slip out of the life you know. You want to just disappear so badly that everything inside of you brings you to do things you never thought you'd do. They feel like your only escape. And it's not like anyone really cares. They never noticed or even notice it now. You let the sickness in your mind take over. You let the disease flow through your body and make you move. Everyone else walks past you without even acknowledging you're there. You sit alone in the crowd of people and think how great it'd be if you died. How no one would even notice that you are gone. Your head swells with anger and sadness, and you don't know what to do. You let yourself go as the pain and torture from these things courses throughout you. You let the tears drip off of your face and blur your vision. You hide everything by smiling when you need to. Not like anyone would notice anyway. You go around every day with your mind stealing your sanity. Killing every piece of happiness that comes near you. Forcing you to live inside of its toxic black hole. You let go of your grasp on reality and fade into the ground as nothing but a mistake.


	6. Writings 17 to 20

**17.**

You want to scream. Your head keeps spinning in circles so fast that you can't do a thing. Everything seems to have become so blurred. Your vision falters as the people around you shriek and cackle. They induce your anger with every word that they say. Though, they don't see it. You let it build up inside you, so that nothing wrong happens. The world keeps spinning and you feel your head begin to tingle. It feels as if sparks of madness are being fired upon it. You feel yourself slip once more into the psychotic domain that sometimes overtakes your own will. It makes you go insane. It causes you to shake violently as it rushes throughout you. You want to escape. You want to run away from all the things that drag you to it. They make you so mad. They make you want to scream at them for everything that they do. But you don't even know why. You can't find anything to hold it down. You rock back and forth like a madman. Mumbling words to yourself that no one else can comprehend. Your breathe coming out in short, fluctuating gasps. Your fingers keep tapping away on the table, even though it annoys you as well. You feel yourself slowly falling into pieces. Withering away by a hand that no one can see.

**18.**

The wretchedness of your being haunts your mind and soul as you falter between the levels of your world. The twisted words of others capture your happiness and burn it alive. You become smothered by the flames and feel yourself melt into a puddle of ashes. The despair of the world around you sinks into your own and your emotions get set into agony. The darkness surrounding you closes in on your thoughts and torments you. It releases its horrid monsters to eat you alive. Every part of who you are gets ripped away and set ablaze by the vile prosecutors. They leave only lies for you to tell and the cruelty of your own inflictions. The sickness spreads throughout you as the cure gets taken and is ignited by sparks of cold venom. The monsters create a fool of your lifeless embodiment. You wilt away like a poisoned flower to those heartless perpetrators. They slowly walk away. Causing your color to fade. Forcing you to bear more and more pain with each and every step. Cutting the strings that were holding you up and crushing any chance you had to live. You go through everything you are used to without a word. Letting it beat you down, because you no longer feel anything. Nothing in the world brings you back from your abyss. Nothing ever tries. You just wilt away as the world sees nothing but a toy. Nothing but a putrid piece of garbage that should rot in flames of despondency.

**19.**

They torture you. They make a mockery of the way you are. You try so hard to understand how they do things. But not enough. Your work and effort is not enough. They want you to struggle. They want to see you climb to the top of the mountain only so they can push you off. You mind swirls with all of the ideas thrust upon it. They absorb who you are and take over. You are no longer what you used to be. And you hate it. You want o go back but they have demolished the path. The darkness you loved so much becomes a sickening poison. It begins to tear you apart. It takes every single thing that kept you sane. Everything that kept you from going down the twisted path you never wanted to be dragged through. The world around you goes on as if you are nothing to be bothered by. And it's right. You are nothing. You are worthless. You are just an idiotic piece of garbage that should forever rot in the filth you have created. You try to escape the villainous words. But they still haunt you. You sink into the despair that surrounds you. You let the toxins melt you down into a disfigured wreck. Your executioners enjoy the pain that you feel. They enjoy how lost you are. How weak they are making you. You feel their reprobated claws sink into your soul. Devouring all the feeling that you have left in you. You become just a hollow image of the old, darkened figure you once were. Everyone around you fades away because of it. Everyone just disappears in an instant. Leaving you to go through every torture alone. Leaving you to slowly deteriorate in your deranged black hole of abasement. Letting you die while your rancorous heart keeps your frame functioning. Only to suffer through the martyrdom of your inhumane thoughts.

**20.**

They never wanted you. They were forced to keep you. You were just a horrible mistake that ruined them. You weren't special. They weren't excited. It was just what society deemed right in its wrongness. So, they then abandoned you. Left you to face the cruel world without anything to help you. They hated you. They still do. Everyone does. Everyone treats you like a freak and acts like they are a friend. You are just the worthless pawn that they let get captured. Though, your life isn't that easy. It doesn't end once you disappear from the board. It just gets worse. You just feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into your depression. Getting thrown around by all the monsters that beat you. The ones that dwell in your mind and throw all the good thoughts away. The monsters start to slowly kill you as the world joins in. You feel so alone in the crowd of other prisoners. So lost and scared. But you take it. You take it because there is nothing else you can do. You just reside in the darkness that never stops choking you. That never lets you laugh or smile without wanting to scream or die even more. Everything around you just closes in to where you just can't take it anymore. You don't want to go down the distorted path, but it keeps pulling at you. So far you've turned away from its malignancy through the few other things that seem to help. Though they have started to fade. Just like everything else in your life that helped. The cures are being burned to ashes right in front of you. But you can't stop it. You can't do anything but watch as the things that helped you stay strong die. As they go through all that you have been through before they leave. They start to understand the things about you and it haunts them. So they run. They leave you just like the ones before. So you stick to a new routine and pray that you never have to change it. Though, while you follow this, they try to kick you down. They push you off the edge and hope to watch you die slowly and painfully. You just melt into your torturous agony and suffer. Until you force yourself to take one breathe and pull the trigger to the gun aimed at your skull.


	7. Writings 21 to 23

**21.**

They kick you to the ground. They spit right in your face and laugh. They don't care about you. They don't care when they rip out a part of you that has taken so much to obtain. They don't care as they push you closer and closer to the edge. You start to cry, because you can't take it. You can't hold onto anything anymore. You want to slip away but you can't. The world won't let you. It wants to keep you prisoner. It wants to watch you suffer as you try to make yourself disappear. Everyone around you sees nothing. How you treat yourself. The things floating around in your head. How much you truly wish that you could escape from everything. How insanely psychotic you are. And not in the fun way. You get dragged down into the depths of your twisted sorrow and it is so hard to find a way out. The music helps though. The screaming of the lyrics vibrating through your skull making it feel as if it could explode calms you. It takes you to a place where you feel free. Where you don't have to listen to anyone. Where all the vicious words and cruel tormentors can't reach you. Where your life actually means something. Until they take it away. Then they throw you into the fires to burn ever so slowly. To rot in the troubles that you have caused for yourself your whole life. No matter how strong you face them, they still manage to knock you down onto your knees. Then they force you to beg. They force you to become a coward. Your life feels so worthless because of them. You feel as if you should stop killing the world with your life. Everything is so pitch black. There is no light at the end. There is no happiness. There is no sweet melody playing in the background, leading you towards safety. All there is is blackness. Howls of pain exploding your eardrums. A sickening, damp cold that makes you tremble even when you feels as if you are warm. Surrounding it is all the pain you've caused. All the lies that make up your life. All the horrible things that you have done. You want to take it all away. You want to forget all of it. But that doesn't work for your persecutors. They make you choke on the toxicness that you have been drenched in. They force you to see all the things that you have done. All the things that hurt others. All the things that dragged you to this remote place filled with its horrendous disillusions. They slowly kill you. And this is the one thing that sets you at rest.

22.

I feel so dead inside. I feel so alone and lost and sick. Like the world is tearing me into pieces. I feel so worthless. Just another piece of low-life garbage that should have been burned a long time ago. Everything I do seems to be for nothing. Everything that I put my happiness in has been taken away from me. They didn't give me back my happiness either. And they wouldn't let me get it back. They left me to rot in this… this.. this hell! Sometimes I feel as if I can't take it anymore. Then I feel even more like a waste. Like everything I've done to be their little miss perfect was such a waste of time. Everything I've ever done was for them! To take care of them! To try and get them to see me as an actual person! My whole life I was their puppet. They pulled the strings, yet they didn't know what was on the other end. I was tormented by the fact that they never cared. I've lived in the darkness ever since the devil incarnate came to us. I've been forced to drink the poison that they have placed in front of me. I was never sheltered from the world's cruelty. They made me face it so she wouldn't have to. My whole life has been theirs and that of a slave. There are so many words that I have messed up definitions of because of them. I feel so close to cutting the strings off of me. So close to exploding upon them. So close to reaching for it. The thing I promised myself I would never try again. Though it seems like such a beautiful promise. Such a wonderful escape from everything that I go through. An escape from my mind and their words and all the things that I have to face. Every day I think of it. Sometimes more than once. I used to think that my prison was a free escape for just a little bit of time. Though now it has changed. It treats me just like they do. Maybe even worse. At least they pretend to care sometimes. My prison just laughs and smiles and makes me feel even worse. I want to hit something or scream or just wilt away into the background until I disappear. All I ever wanted was to help people. To let others be happy while I suffered. Though, no one else will let it work like that. I hate everything so dang much! I want the world to grow up and face what it has caused upon itself! I want everything to go away. I want to be free of all the things that my mind feeds me. That they feed me. I hate how crazy I am. I hate all of who I am. I just wish that I could make it go away. Sometimes I wish I had the will to grab it. I wish I could believe that someone actually cares. Not out of pity or how distanced I look or out of some stupid other reason that doesn't really involve me. Though, I'm used to lies. I live in them. I'm so trapped in them that I don't remember the truth. And that's how my life will fade.

**23.**

You feel yourself sink into the poisoned waters that they have thrown you into. You tried so hard to stay above them. But then you just got so tired of everything that they were throwing at you. All the cold, stone objects that seemed to be aimed at your soul. Your long-lost soul. You got to see the true side of what you thought to be kindness. The real monsters that they are. Your lungs feel as if they are going to explode. Though you like the pain. You welcome it to fill you as the murky water rushes into you. You think of all the things that you are going to escape from. All the suffering that you will leave behind. But the waters are controlled by the world. The vicious, psychopathic world that loves to make children scream more than anything. The world that revived you even as you pleated and begged to stay a transparent image. You are yanked above the toxic flow and air rushes into you. A muffled scream comes out of your mouth as you fall into an agonizing despair. Every single time something pulls you back. Something makes you change your mind for a split second. And then the opportunity is gone. Your life sits at the bottom of a dried up well. So far away from everyone else. Trapped with the damp and sickening bottom. No one dares to help you. They don't even know that you are there. You just rot away in the cold darkness. Contemplating so many things. So many ideas. So many different plans for how to escape your life and all that tortures it. Everything just sinks in around you. And you are forced to inhale it and remember every single one. Even as it kills you.


	8. Writings 24 to 26

**2**4.

They hold you down with the constricting restraints. You can't move as they near you. A tray of skin piercing objects rests a foot away from your face. The crazed madmen pick up the glinting tools and smile as they see the expression on your simulacrum. The pain sears your body. Your mind. Your complete soul. All the torture is injected upon you so forcefully by the crooked, rusty needle. Right on the underside of your weak, little scar. The sickening poison drips into your veins as they hold you down. The needle transfixed into you from the most awful angle. Your thoughts dance around like Indians near a fire. Hectic and unable to be understood for the most part. Everything seems to swirl together and then break apart into small tendrils of smoke. Lightning flashes upon your eyes and all you see are fireworks or the hot, piercing red of the sun. The monsters lurk out of their hiding spots as the killers set them free. You are forced to run in circles for them. Forced to fight off the beasts of your own faults. Everything seems like a sick and twisted blur of all your nightmares. All the things that the psychos have made you go through just to weakly survive in their dungeons. All the things that you have lost or done just for their contorted approval. Their sickening approval. The deranged push you to the table upon which they hope to cut you open. To kill you as much as possible while keeping you alive. They stare into your indecipherable eyes with the black holes of their impervious own. Caring is not found in their vocabulary. They made it to where it wasn't in yours either. Yes, they created you. They dragged out the darkness and morphed it into the form of who you are. You are nothing but their shadows. Their lies and dark secrets and failures. Their broken dreams and pain and problems. You are all the things that they don't want. The things that they hate. The things that they are so willing to throw away and pretend like they never existed. They close in on you. They jerk you down into the hard floor beneath you. Blood flowing down the side of your invisible face. Tears burning your eyes but never falling down. They pull you into the maze upon which they plan to keep you prisoner in. To where you will keep running in crazed patterns until you die in an ocean of misery and confusion.

**25.**

No one cares. No one ever has and no one ever will. It's not like the normal cases for you. It's not what they say to you. It's not what they do to you. It's what they don't. They never speak to you like a real person. Or someone that they see as a friend. You are always like the new kid. Or someone with a disease that causes them to hate you. They don't joke around and laugh with you. It's with the other people there. You're so sick of being the child so engulfed in darkness that everyone stays so far away from you. They treat you as if you aren't there. As if you are what you want to be so much of the time. Dead. They treat you as if you are a ghost. They look right through you. They don't understand how much it hurts you. How much you want to cry and scream and break things every single stupid day that you are stuck there. Here where no one else understands. Where no one else ever did what you did. That god awful secret that you want to tell. But you know better. You feel yourself fading every day. You want the poison to flow through your blood. You want the fire to turn you into an untraceable pile of ashes. You're so sick of it all. So sick of being treated like you aren't there. So sick of faking your whole dang life. So sick of being scared. So sick of being lied to. So dang frikin sick of trying to help people while they spit in your pathetic face. You sit on the edge of this cruel world. Kicking your feet back and forth like a child would over a pond. Staring at the stars and wishing that you could reach out and grab one of them. But you are stuck there. Gasping for the few breathes that they allow you. Just enough to keep you alive whilst you suffer. You close your eyes to your dreams. Follow all their insensate rules. And blur into a nothingness that remains unseen by those surrounding your inert life.

**26.**

You sit desolated from all of the others. They sit around in their happy little lives. Unaffected by any of the issues roaming through the real world. They are almost as bad as your higher tormentors. They ignore you just the same. They seem to blame you just the same. They probably even hate you the same. They feed you lies and expect you to believe them. You aren't smart, but you can still grasp most of them. And it kills you. You drift in and out of the conscious state that you hate so much. Your vision seems to blur even more and you feel yourself breaking into pieces faster. You're coming closer to it. You try to run, but they chase you until you're only a few steps away. They don't see what they are doing. But it doesn't matter. They wouldn't stop even if they did. They don't care about you. You feel so sick because of them all. Like you don't belong. Probably because you don't. You shouldn't be around anyone. You shouldn't have friends. You shouldn't have feelings or an opinion. You're just a worthless piece of nothing that should be left alone to die. To suffocate in the messes that you have made. To slowly be devoured by the monsters that you have created. The darkness sinks in over your head and you drown in it. You let it fill you and close your eyes to this world in which you are trapped. You feel the object and teeth pierce your hand. The blanket cover your face and the water pull you under. You hear a scream escape from your mouth and feel yourself fall down into a pile of worthlessness. Everything seems to fade away. All the good things that keep you here. They seem to turn on you. They seem to hate you now. Just like everyone and everything else. So you let go of your light grasp and fall into the darkness as its prisoner.


	9. A Look into the Darkness

I'm sorry if I have ever done anything that has hurt you at all in any way, shape, or form. I swear from whatever piece of real heart that I have that I hope you never held onto whatever horrible feeling that I put upon you. I'm so sorry if I ever did something like that. I'm so sorry if you have ever felt like no one cares or like you're worthless and you can do nothing. Don't ever think like that. And yes, I may be being hypocritical but I don't care. I don't want anyone to feel like I do or worse. If you ever feel like I have and do, try to walk away from it as fast as you can. Or it will tear you apart and keep you prisoner even while you feel as if you are happy. If you have no friends, find me and I will be there. If someone is pushing you down into a dark hole of misery, I will try my hardest to bring you out because no one deserves to be trapped in that awful state of mind. It kills me to know that there are others like me and I don't want that to be true. Don't let yourself get sucked into that void, because, believe me, it is hard to come out of. And it can slowly kill you as well.

*deep breath*

Okay. Be warned. These are the dark things that haunt my mind. This is your chance to look away from my horrible things. To walk away from my living nightmare. To just close your eyes to it all and pretend that it isn't happening like the rest of the world.

I never talk because it is just easier to fake happiness when I don't have to lie to people's faces about the things that I'm thinking or what I'm being forced to. I have also been a depressionist for a long time and I don't want to drag people down into the murky and painful waters of my darkness. I never talk because I know that no one truly cares what I have to say. I'm stupid but I do grasp some things. I don't talk because I've gotten so used to people making me repeat myself so many times when I don't want to speak anymore. I've gotten used to being so alone and trapped in a pitch black land where talking is useless. My words do nothing but make me ignored even more. Not talking keeps me from being looked at like even more of a freak. It also keeps me from having friends. Without friends keeps me from getting hurt more. Every friend I've ever had has ended up leaving me or hating me. I haven't had a friend stick with me since I was really little like everyone else I've ever seen. I kept friends longer when I hardly talked. Though, I've still lost them. And I feel as if I'm losing the only remaining ones more and more each day. I'm the last resort kid. I'm the one that everyone goes to when there's no one left. The one that they only talk to when everyone else is busy or won't talk to them. I'm the kid that causes the teacher to pick partners when it has to be a group project or I'm the one working alone. I'm the freak that sits alone during lunch and sits near the door of the classroom so that I can rush out of that horrid cell that chokes me. The one that's avoided by everyone and shoved or hit because no one sees me even when I'm right in front of them. I'm the frikin child that has been hated by her whole family forever. The one that has been suicidal since she was six years old. The freak that has come so close so many times to writing the letter and actually vaguely had something close to it in her last phone. The girl that tries to keep the bottom part of her hands hidden out of habit, because she used to bite her hands or stab herself with pencils just to feel pain and keep herself from crying. The one that fell asleep at night with tears on her face, because she couldn't bring herself to stay submerged in the pillow or keep her hands around her own neck or wrapped tight in the blanket covering her face or beneath the waters while her family watched. The monster of a human being that tried to kill her sister when she was little. I'm the child that hates faking to the parents that hate her. That doesn't believe in their god. I know there is something up there, but what they believe seems so wrong. But it's something that I've grown up with. It makes me so lost and confused and it hurts me knowing that I'm hurting them through not saying something. I hate living so much because I am doing nothing to help anyone. I'm just floating around feeling sorry for a life that so many others should have. I'm so useless and worthless. Yet I'm still the one living and it kills me knowing this. I should be dead and so many others should be alive. I should be the one starving and slowly dieing through a painful sickness. I hate who I am and all the things that I've done. I hate that I make this world worse. I hate this damn world in general but everything that the darkness brings me just makes it so much worse. I feel so sick of it all the time. So hurt and lost and confused and tired of it all. My only escape is music and the things I write and sometimes reading. I just wish it would leave me alone. That everything would just let me go. That way I can finally escape. So that I can get away from all the things that keep me a weak and horrible prisoner in their stupid grimy hands that I just wish I could break. So that I can finally do something good for this world.


	10. Writings 28 to 29

28.

You feel the thoughts go through your head as if they have just surfaced. Though, the truth is that they have been there forever. They've sat deep in their cold chamber waiting for you to feel happy. It's like the emotions going through you when your car hits a small bump and you just know you've killed some creature, if you're of a kinder mind. You get out and look. You see its guts protruding from where they should be on the inside. Smaller creatures eating at them from inside and out. Though, you see you haven't killed it. That it was someone else. You get that feeling that is a mix of remorse and disgust. Except the thoughts are for yourself instead of the creature or killer. They stay hidden until they feel you need them to hurt you. They make you feel as if you are being selfish through your cold selflessness. You get that hatred and anger towards yourself mixed with the sad and dreariness of all the things you've become. You get that stupid feeling that somehow pushes you to cry. The tears are few and go quickly out, this caused by your sickness, but the feeling is fine with that. It makes you feel as if you are sick. As if everything around you is crashing down like a plane with blown engines and broken propellers. You feel as if the things you've let stick are being ripped off. No. They are breaking themselves free. They are running from you. They are sick too. But not like you. Because of you. Because of the things you are and aren't. The world sits high and mighty like the dictator it is and smiles at you. That wicked smile that makes you hate. The one that makes you feel so low and weak. The one that lets you know what horrible pain is going to smack you next. But leaves out when so that you panic through the void that is between the times. You smile through it all. Laugh at the jokes. Say that you are enjoying everything. But that is only when their faces are looking upon yours. When they turn it goes back to that face of sadness and regret and slight horror for the things to come and have gone. You go back to being the child sitting alone in what should be a soft, white room. But somehow isn't. Back to the child that should have no blood flowing or air flying around inside. But somehow does. Back to the child that was forced to be an adult at an early age. Forced to see the darkness of the world and take it like it was normal. Back to the child who forgets the years of supposed childhood. Forgets all the true joy that used to sit inside her now dieing smile. The one that doesn't remember a goddamned thing but the dark memories that haunt her rotten soul. The one that feels so hurt and lost all the time that she can barely manage to stay calm when only slightly pushed. That can feel the clock inside just ticking away to an unknown time where she will explode into pieces so small that she will disappear so quickly and never be thought of again. Even by those that were trusted.

29.

You grasp at the slick side of the log upon which you are holding onto. The strong currents carrying you farther and farther down the water. You can feel it tugging at you. Pulling you under every few feet. Choking your mind and blurring your vision. It's trying to drown you. And you're coming close to letting it. Very scarily close. So, you reach out for their hand to pull you back up. To save you from the fate you've seen play over so many different times in so many different ways. But it isn't there. They've finally forgot about you. They've finally let you go. Set you free like all the others. All the others that couldn't help you. Couldn't save you. You trust absolutely no one with your life. But they were as close as someone could get for you. They still are. Give or take a little. You feel more alone though. You feel as if they trapped you in a box and are listening as you suffocate. They hear you scream, they see your pain. Yet now they do nothing. They let you sit in all of it. They let it smuggle your pathetic life away in crates. You scream as the water sweeps you closer to your shared edge. One last scream to echo through the world as your eerie and weak goodbye. You then let go of the last lifeline you ever had. You whisper your final goodbye and let yourself sink. Water pours into your lungs and simultaneously pushes you off. You fly. Fly right out of the pages of your faded story with all of the happy parts ripped out and shredded to pieces. You fly through the air in a sickening free fall. You know what is going to happen to your already mangled body. Though, your crooked, twisted soul doesn't care. You fly until your face is few seconds from the jagged bottom. Where the water is trickling around so methodically. Letting you drift into a weirdly calming state where you feel at rest. And then you hit. A sickening crack echoes through your ears and in your mind as you make contact with the rocks. You lay there in a flowing pink liquid. Can feel the immobility of your body. Can feel the dark red and black poison drip from out of you. You make pictures in the funny liquid. Pictures that you don't even understand. Pictures that should mean something to you. But don't. You also lay in the thoughts you tried to escape. The thoughts and events and problems and mental unstabilities that grabbed at you and wouldn't let you go. The ones that built up so many times that you are even shocked that you made it this far. They sit there. Just waiting. Hoping that you will really fall off an edge. An edge that you created yourself. An edge that you are willing to fall off of.


	11. Writings 30 to 31

30.

Others can't comprehend it. Others don't get how people like them could help you so much. How they could be the closest to you and the best people in this universe. How you've all stayed together even though you're drifting apart. How their craziness and psychoticness and jokes and fights and weirdness and so many other things don't affect you. But the truth is. It does. Just not in the way the others would think it should. The things they do and the way they act actually helps you. It makes you forget about the sickness coursing through you. It reminds you that there is at least a bit of happiness and joy and peacefulness in the world. They help you through everything whether they know it or not. And you just hope that you help them too. They've helped to build you up into the person that you are. They have done so much for you without even knowing it. To you, all f you are just the different colors that no one really chooses. The dark places that seem so scary to others, but are so beautiful and wonderful, if you know what to look for. They are never ending books filled with sad words and twisted souls that only the few smart people choose to read. The broken pieces of glass that seem so evil and useless, but can be turned into something marvelous if you can figure it out. The outsiders that differ so much that they are almost the same. They taught you how to make the best out of your tattered life. They showed you why you should live. Why it's okay to be hated by so many and knocked down and left alone. They taught you to see the dark beauty that encases the world. They pushed you towards the outlets and remedies and medicines that have saved you from going to far. You would do anything for them. Well, almost anything. They've got the craziest, twisted minds. They are all incredibly talented and unique and broken. They are the most amazing and entertaining and darkest and strongest people you have and ever will meet on this damned planet. They deserve so much, yet are happy with the little they have. They all have tearful stories inside their memories. Ones that knock others down into hard pavement. Yet they remain standing and try so hard to pull others back up. They are the only people that you absolutely trust. They have the coolest and funest ideas, so there is never a moment when you are bored while around them. They are going to go so far in life. And if not, the world is somehow stupider than you thought. You miss them all so much. The places where you would all hang out. All the things you all did. You miss every single second of it all. They are the bestest people to know and, no matter what happens, that will never change. They are so wonderfully different from all of the other people on this crooked planet. So free and joyous while they are trapped in such hells. This planet's words don't even fit who they are and what they do and all that they stand for. They truly don't belong here, but you are so glad and thankful that they do. You don't know where you'd be if not for being put in that class years ago. If not for being left in years to come, just like every other time. You owe your life to them, because they are the ones that dug it up, restored it, and gave it back to you. Even now, they all make sure that it is growing and not letting it sink back into the ground. Most of your happiest memories are about times where you were with them. From all that you remember, they have never broken you down. Never forced you to take another step in that awful direction marked with pain and tears and hate. They are the ones that know your weaknesses and don't use them against you. There are just so many things you could and feel you should say to and about them. They just get jumbled up inside your head and, for most of it, there aren't words strong enough for what you want to say. Though, to sum it up plain and simple, they are and forever will be your best friends. And you thank them for that.

31.

Darkness drifts in across the tortured mind of the out casted child. Lying alone in the dirt while more gets kicked into its pathetic face. Tears hang on the edge of the purple eyes that seem to be fine. But are swollen and grotesque underneath. The others get tired of their cruel games and leave the child to suffer. It hears them cackling as they walk away from what they see as nothing. Stars dance inside of its line of vision while invisible creatures rock it back and forth. The child walks toward the place upon which it hides. A place hidden to everyone but it. High in the trees where no one can reach it. So warm and peaceful and free. The child stays there. Out of harm. Out of fear. Out of all of its failures and mistakes and bruises. The child thinks of everything that has fallen into the path of its life. It screams. Then the tears burst from its eyes as it sinks into to the branches to hide from everyone that won't come. Its blood silently drips onto the arms holding the child from where they had gotten it good. No one hears the words that the child says. It seems that no one would care any way. The child just tries desperately to hold onto the little piece of crumbled up sanity left inside its poor, beaten head. The stars start to pour into the sky. But no one comes looking for the child. Not many ever will. It makes up its mind and stands like it is going to climb down the tree. But the little child doesn't. It backs up as far as it can and runs. It runs as fast as anyone can on a tree branch up in the sky. The branch shakes beneath its feet. I see it happen so slowly. The branch drops into a position where it looks like it will snap. The child bends its knees and pushes with all the force it can bring. It's in the air now. Arms wide, a sorrowful smile spread lightly across its face. The child looks my way and waves. I look away before the child's mental decision becomes a reality. I feel myself turn and look. The child is laying there. Sprawled into a sickening form that brings tears to even my eyes. I walk over and tap its cold shoulder. "Come with me," I whisper," you're going to be living somewhere new now." The child stares up at me then looks at its lifeless body. _Thank you_, is what I hear before the child is whisked away. It had so much potential. So much kindness and power and gifts for the world. But they took them all away. They say that I am the monster. The one that takes the souls, kills the living. But this world is what does that. The world is the true murderer.


	12. Writings 32 to 33

32.

You are trapped by all their sounds and names and abandonedments. They get you to join them, but they really don't care. You are next to them all the time. Yet do their words get addressed to you? Do they laugh and smile and joke around with you? Do they hear what you say or see what you do? No. you are a living dead child. You are the ghost of a little girl that was always trapped. You are the invisible monster that no one ever wants to see. You live in the world of shadows and fears and hurt and misery. Every day it gets harder to hold on to your small hand-hold in reality. You feel yourself slipping into that dark abyss. Feel the ropes holding you in safety start to slacken and untwine themselves. And the twisted part is that you are trying to make it happen faster. You want to be let go. You want to fall into the place where you can't see. Where you can't control what you do. You want to end all of it. To end all of the things flowing through you and forcing you to endure all of the things that make you sick. Though, you just can't. You can go days without that feeling. Days without inching closer. Then it decides to hit you like a bus and everything just seems to hurt so much that you can barely stand it. All the thoughts in your head for it sicken you. Yet they also seem to be so easy. So peacefully easy. You try to escape your taunting mind. Escape into a paradise where you think of nothing. Just blank pages and random splashes of color surrounded by random meaningless things. But it doesn't always work. You don't always get that distanced bliss upon which it is like you truly are dead. Sometimes you get the images that drag it all back up. The ones that move your hand towards it and force it to become a part of you. They don't see it. They don't go through it. Or at least not as much as you tend to. They only see the easily fixable things hovering on the surface. The ones that you are slightly willing to tell them. You wouldn't ever dare tell them the things that you even hide from yourself. It could kill them like it has you. And you wouldn't want that for your worst enemy. You think that it would help them too. If you were to follow it. The voices and the thoughts and the rotten, dead pile of grey matter trapped inside its cell. Though you then realize that it wouldn't do a thing. It wouldn't even affect them. And while that kills you more than the things will, you also find it comforting. So you let yourself hold the barrel to your skull. Or the blade to your cover. Or stay hidden under the cool liquid. Or press the pillows and blankets tighter against your supply. Or even stare at all the little bottles and branches. Right until the tears fall from your eyes and the lyrics won't come out anymore. Then finally all the blanks pull into your mind and it all disappears. The lyrics pull free as your thoughts go numb and you begin to fade.

33.

They don't see you. These people never have. And never will. You are right in front of their eyes, yet you make no impression upon them. They see right through you. Dead child. You can't wait to escape from this place filled with tormentors. You want to be around those that seem to care. Even if you are losing them faster. You wish you could remember it all. You wish that more of the memories that you could drag up were good. You picture everything falling into place so perfectly. Though then all the things running to push you down collide. Pieces fly everywhere. Some even shatter. Some disappear and are never seen again. This hurts you. It hurts you more than you will let anyone ever know. Even sometimes when it is just one. Just one little thing can sometimes set you off running towards that place where your bad thoughts climb around and bite you if you aren't careful. You want to scream so much. But your stupid voice won't let you. There were so many things that used to help. That used to distract you from it. That used to be an escape for you. But they are disappearing. It's starting to go back to what it used to be. Where you'd fall asleep crying. Always only having nightmares where you could never wake up from them on your own. Where you would sit alone letting your mind rush at different things that made it all worse. Where the only good friends you ever had were characters from books. And then you felt abandoned all over again when the back cover fell and no one was there to talk to because the only people that talked back sort of died. Just like all those that you didn't get to know did at your young age. Where they called you names and gave you those looks of hatred and disgust without ever even trying to see you as something other than dirt. Where you weren't scared to do anything and show them what you could do even if you couldn't. But no one watched anyways. You hated those times. You blocked most all of them out for those reasons. That's probably why you don't remember. And your mind won't let you remember anything. But now you're going back to times like those. And you have only a little of what used to keep you away from it. You are so messed up. Maybe that's what they see. Why they stay away from you. They've tricked their minds into not seeing you. Because you're to awful. Because you're to out casted. You want to run. But they've bricked you up in a small little place. And you can't breathe. Though you're fine with that. It lets you think about everything. Even if that's probably not the best thing for you to do. It lets you think about the puzzle's picture. Look at the things printed onto all the pieces. See the ones that don't belong. The ones that never did. It lets you focus on how to put them together. But it also lets you get frustrated. It shows how easy it's not. And how quick you'll give up. But the closeness also seems to comfort you. Makes you feel not as alone in some way. So you let them keep you trapped. Like the prisoner you always feel to be. And you rot away happily. Until the ones you trust finally hear you. And they tear it all down. Setting you free.


	13. Writings 34 to 35

34.

They don't see it all. You don't even think that they got so far along with this. They shut you out of it all. You aren't there. So they don't think you could be there. You want to help them so bad, but they won't let you. They don't even tell you anymore. You don't think they mean to hurt you. You hope and wish and pray and whatever else that they aren't doing it on purpose. And you don't mean to hurt them either. You don't want to make them suffer more than they already do. You hear the screaming ring back through your ears. You feel the somewhat muscled hands close around your throat again and drag you back up the wall. You see the flashing lights in the mirror of a car you didn't want to be in. Yet ride in nearly every day. That moment when you first realized how they had forced you to become an adult when you shouldn't have been. You see the tears on your pillows and the knees of your pants and one of the only things that has been there comforting you every broken step. You see them under beds and under cars and in trees and in the darkest hiding spots you could find. You remember them lulling you into nightmare filled nights. Though the real nightmares began once you opened your eyes still filled with tears and darkness blocking out your sight. This has turned you into the monster that you are now. You feel so hurt by how much you want to tell them and how willing you are to. But none of them seem to want to listen. They don't even really acknowledge what you are doing. Do you even really want them to? You've hid it from everyone your whole, entire life. But they'd get it. They would understand it. Or at least some of it. But why should they? Why should they listen to your problems when they have so many to deal with themselves? Why should they even care? Especially about someone like you. Questions echo through your head and you can't find an answer to them. You can't think of reasons. They shouldn't. The firsts should have walked away from you those years ago. Left you behind just like the other kids before, then, and after did. They should have thrown you aside after the first year or before like the ones from the past did. They shouldn't have helped you get more. The newer should have discluded you and taken the firsts away from you long ago. They should never have let you stay. Your mind now wraps itself around the idea that someone is finally there. Someone can help you. Someone can just listen or see. It caused you to need them. And that could kill you. They are drifting off. Leaving you to sit in the dust upon which you choke and are smothered by. You've grown used to having them around and it hurts horribly to watch them take steps away from you. Though you'll try hard not to say anything. Just like always. You don't want to hold them back anymore. You want them to escape the suffering that they all endure. You desperately want them to help you. But you also want it to be them and not pity or any other nonsense like that. You pick yourself up out of the dust and start walking in the direction you came. Tears well up in your eyes and the pain digs itself roughly back into the place where a heart should be. The color fades from your form and you turn back into the ghost that this world knows all to well. The long nights and constant nightmares return to you. And you still remember none of them. All the fears and pain and sadness set you back into that zone where you scare others. They, of course, ignore you. And you retreat back into the darkness that shelters you from it all.

35.

They're gone. They tell you nothing anymore. Not until it's to late. You're sorry. Your so very, very sorry. The tears have came back. The constant fits and old feelings and mental instabilities. You never wanted to tell them. It was your fault that you went away in the first place. You did it. No one else. You begged. You pleaded. You felt so alone there too. It hurt. Then they finally listened. Everyone did. Things got a bit better there. Then she finally decided we could leave. You didn't even try to stop her. You didn't even tell them until it was to late. You were to much of a coward. You were never one of the people that had to have something taken from you before you saw its worth. Not until then. You didn't realize how much those people really meant to you until you had to leave them behind. For people that will never even know your name. For people that will never see you. That killed you. Did they even really care? Did they notice you gone? You kind of hope so. You're getting back to the point where you come close to screaming in your little safe area. Do they not trust you? Do they not remember who you are? Do they not understand how much you wish you could help? You're so very, very, very sorry. You don't mean to hurt them. If you even do. Those fucking words echo throughout your head. You're insane. You just know how to hide it well. That disease. That pest. That stupid, haunting voice in the back of your head just creeps up and you lose it. _You can't do a damn thing right. Can you? Can't do a fucking damn thing. What good are you! Huh? What fucking good are you too them! You can't do a mother fucking thing for them, you worthless fucking mutt! Should've done it! _It screams at you. And you listen to it. They tell you it isn't true. Or at least they used to. But you know it is. You don't even have to go deep down to know that it's true. They throw you inside of a box and lock it up tight. Your cries and screams aren't heard by those outside. You're slight claustrophobia drags up and you find yourself unable to breathe. Everything is getting lost in your vision. Yet you smile. Maybe someday you'll be able to help them instead of hurt them. Maybe one day you'll make it without your medicine filled with lyrics and sounds and darkness. Maybe one day you'll change. Maybe one day you'll do something right. Though, maybe one day it'll come at you and you won't be able to stop it. Maybe one day you'll listen.


	14. Writings 36 to 37

36.

Your unsettling mind captures everything that will help drag you down. Gladly, it watches you choke and you start to see the darkness come into view. You've tried everything you can to hang on to the string keeping you here. Now all you have left is to leave. Will they care? They don't act it. Do they even talk to you anymore? Do they even read it? Do they even ask about everything? Do they even tell you what all they go through? No. Not anymore. Though, why are you surprised? You should be used to getting treated like this by now. You were raised like this. Always treated like this. Everyone else left you to die. Why shouldn't they? You hurt them. You hurt them just like you've done to everyone else that has come in contact with you. You fed them some of your poison and now they're suffering. You don't mean to. You never want to. The darkness just wants you to suffer and it doesn't care about those that stand in its way. You can't help it if you hurt someone. You go into everything blindly for tears are sitting in your eyes. You can't see to save them from what you do. You can't speak up for the things you wish would happen, because the darkness has stolen your voice. Or maybe you just threw it away. It was always causing you to trip and fall. Always scaring off those that tried to help. Always giving away your secrets to the wrong people. You can't hear the things that will save you. Your life has caused you to block out so much that you hardly hear a thing anymore. Except for lyrics. They seem to be one of the only things that your mind will let you hear or recognize. Those and all the hatred that is thrown into your face and forcibly made to be swallowed. Everything you need is always so close to you and that scares you. Do they want you to do it? It seems as if they do. They don't try to stop it when the darkness grabs your throat. They pretend not to notice when it takes your mind and you start to fade out right in front of them. They are starting to act like you're not even really there anymore. Like you're already gone. You should be. They don't want you around. They don't want you here. There are only two people that really want you around. But you don't want them to grow up like you. You want them to see a world that is good. That won't hurt them. And you can't show that to them. You can't look them in the eyes and say that the world is wonderful and people won't be bad to you and that everything is fine. You swore that you would never hurt them or let anyone else. Never lie to them unless you absolutely had to. You love them to much. So maybe you should. Let go of everything and let the darkness win. Close your eyes to it all and let them close the lid. Take every poison that you've collected over all these years and blend them together before you swallow. It's not like anyone would say something. It's not like anyone would try and stop you. If they really wanted to, they would have done it before it got to this point. Before you got so close to the edge where there are only so few ways of dragging you back. They would have shown you that they cared. But now it's to late. The only thing left that you have to say. Is goodbye.

37.

It hurts so much hearing what they think you would have done. Is that how they see you? Is that who they think you are? Of course it is. They haven't spoken to you in so long. They don't know who you are anymore. Did they ever really? No. They didn't. They saw you like everyone else did. And it hurts you to know that they still do. But at least it doesn't hurt as much as it used to. Having a life full of practice has helped with that. You'll never be the same though. And never will they. They moved on and switched paths. You died. Any trace of happiness shattered through your hands. Any chance of getting some kind of life back burned by your fault. Any trust you had left inside your black hole dissipated through the powers of all those you hate. What else would you expect from the invisible child that has lived forever in the shadows? It's coming back. So very quickly. Too quickly. You're scared you won't be able to stop it. It hasn't been this bad in years. And back then there were so many obstacles in its way and things for you to fight it with. You're not so sure about them now. Most of them vanished and there isn't a way for you to get them back. Would they even care if it got you? Would they ever even know? You don't think so. Not now anyways. Maybe back then, if you were lucky. But not now. They don't seem to care anymore. None of them. You have finally become the garbage that everyone else sees to them. They have finally let you go completely. So wishing on stars does work. If only the other would come true. Even if it does hurt you. Even if it does somehow manage to hurt them. You want it to come true so badly. As twisted as that may be. You don't want to hurt anymore. Don't want to be scared. Why they abandoned you is all you wish to know. Then you'll be free. Finally able to let go and fall into the darkness. Able to disappear in the horrid mist that has clouded you your whole life. Able to finally say goodbye.

For all of the closest friends I have that I'll never get to know or really help, I'm sorry. For the family that never seems to care, I still love you. For all of those that pretended to never see me and held me down in the water to drown, I still wish you happiness even after you stole mine. For all of those that are like me, hold your head up and smile because it does get better. For all of those that wrote the lyrics that have helped me through my life, I thank you oh so very much.


End file.
